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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516352">Seven</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleaze_em/pseuds/sleaze_em'>sleaze_em</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lokir of Rorikstead [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drunkenness, Injury, Vignette, depictions of violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:54:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleaze_em/pseuds/sleaze_em</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Khajiit, recovering.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Lokir of Rorikstead [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582192</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>proofreading? i dont know her.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Khajiit’s head collided with the wooden panel of the wall beside her. It seemed terribly loud to her, but Talen-Jei didn’t even turn her way from where he was sweeping the floor. Perhaps he evaded his gaze out of politeness, but her thoughts weren’t ordered enough to start analyzing motives.</p><p>Fortunately, she wasn’t able to pay much attention to her newly-formed headache, nor the fracture in her arm. That had been the main goal of the three (or four?) Black-Briar mead bottles she’d imbibed in the last two hours, tucked here under a taxidermied mudcrab. The carriage-driver she’d hired to bring to Riften had recommended the Black-Briar mead, and she’d gotten into Riften too late to see the alchemist before he’d closed, so she figured she’d take his advice. The meadery itself, however, was closing, so she’d trudged back to the Bee and Barb to get quietly wasted. Talen-Jei had a soft spot for the Khajiit after she’d helped him build his engagement ring for Keerava, so he didn’t care too much that she’d brought outside drink with her.</p><p>The Khajiit didn’t have enough energy to remove her head from its position on the wall, and her trusty mage cloak she wore when armor wasn’t required created a bit of a cushion for her head. She wasn’t terribly fond of Riften; the smell of fish always permeated the air and the likelihood that she would be stabbed seemed to increase tenfold. After escaping the Thalmor Embassy, however, she’d found herself in dire need to be as far away from it as she could possibly be. So, figuring she could make Delphine sweat for a while, she’d hiked back to Solitude in order to get the carriage, thrown a non-distinct, yet very generous, amount at the driver and told him to take her to Riften.</p><p>It had been, she could admit, a pretty stupid idea on her part. She’d never gotten the hang of healing magic, so the best she could do is firmly wrap her forearm to prevent the break from jostling too much. After five hours of a bumpy carriage ride, however, she would damn-near have preferred to amputate the arm. She could have easily gone into Solitude to see Angeline, but it had gotten hard to make eye contact with the kindly old woman after the Khajiit had broken the news of her daughter’s death. Fortunately, the Khajiit had succumbed to exhaustion after a while, and she woke up only a few leagues away from Riften. She’d been thankful for the cover of darkness, because she could see a familiar trading caravan in the fog once they’d reached the gate.</p><p>She’d caught the manager of Black-Briar meadery on his way out for the night, and silenced any of his complaints with a coin purse before she’d grabbed what she could carry and left. Honestly, the Khajiit had never had as much coin as she did currently, and the fact that she hadn’t turned and gone directly to her fellow khajiit and cleared them out of skooma was either a testament to her developing sobriety or to her refusal to confront a past one-night stand. (Her current state of drunkenness suggested the latter.)</p><p>The Kahjiit was summoned from her ruminations by the sound of a plate being placed on her table. It took her a few moments to realize her eyes were closed, and then open them. There was a plate of bread and a few strips of dried venison before her. She looked up, and saw the departing back of Keerava. The Khajiit knew that Keerava didn’t like her nearly as much as her betrothed did, but she also knew that there was a caring argonian somewhere beneath those scales.</p><p>Part of her loathed the fact that she was currently pitiful enough to be getting bread from one of the biggest curmudgeons she knew. <i>The Dragonborn should be above petty drunkenness and addiction,</i> she chastised herself. The other part of her realized that she hadn’t eaten in nearly three days, and was ravenous. She reached for the bread with her bad arm, hissed in pain, then reached with her working one. She chewed slowly.</p><p>The secondary reason she’d had as an excuse for her mild relapse was the desire to forget everything that had transpired in the den of privilege she’d narrowly escaped from. In all honesty, the Khajiit had no idea how she’d managed to make it to the courtyard of the Thalmor Embassy, but the second she’d stepped into the courtyard she was spotted, and every Thalmor in the immediate area had set onto her.</p><p>She’d gotten the absolute shit beaten out of her. Then, once she’d finally killed or incapacitated all fo the guards in the courtyard, and actually done what she needed for Delphine, there were <i>more</i> Thalmor on her back, and these she had to fight with one gods-damned arm. The Khajiit had been thrilled the moment she saw Malborn, thinking that, with his help, they’d easily make it out together. That was, at least, until Malborn had been gutten in front of her, because she had dodged an attack only to have it strike him.</p><p>The Khajiit looked down. Malborn’s blood was still on her shoes. She returned the bread to her plate, no longer feeling hungry.</p><p>She heaved herself up, going to the bar in order to procure a room for the night. Before she could speak, Keerava said, “Just give me the coin and go upstairs.” The Khajiit did just that, thankful for not having to talk. She removed her boots, and went to take off her robe, only to give up from the aching in her arm.</p><p>Once she’d collapsed in the bed, the Khajiit stared at the roof. Now, without the idle chatter, bard music, or carriage-horse hooves, the voices of the dragons that haunted her mind became clear to her. She tried to block them out, focusing on her own thoughts. Tomorrow, she’d have to go to the alchemist, get enough potions to get her arm to start knitting itself back together, then return to Riverwood and Delphine, and pray that no Thalmor cross her path. She considered taking the long way back, hiking through the wetlands and sleeping beneath the stars like she did before she’d, somehow, inherited the responsibility of all Nirn.</p><p>Before she’d decided, she fell asleep.</p>
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